Within the ten-mile-long gallery, Fang Yang felt as if he'd had a dream, a dream both enchanting and ambiguous.
In this dream, leaves were falling, and the scenery was breathtaking.
The usually cold and domineering Empress was actually disputing with the Empress Dowager about attending to him.
It was as if she was jealous, her lips tightly pursed, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and layers of ripples emanating from her eyes as she endeavored to please him nonstop.
Kneeling before him, her hands grasping the balustrade, strands of her black hair cascading down, releasing waves of faint fragrance that was intoxicating.
It stirred one's primal longings and made the blood race, even involving his Demon Body, which began to operate autonomously, and as soon as it did, it spurred to its utmost potential.
Buzzing sounds!
The formation was continuously activated, changing unpredictably.
